GermanyN Italy Style: Freaky Friday
by She of the Shadows
Summary: What would happen if Germany and Italy switched minds? Or bodies...? Find out here!
1. Chapter 1

Italy wakes up very slowly, extricating his face from his pillow. He looks at the oak headboard of his bed, blinking slowly several times before rolling onto his back and closing his eyes again. Finally, he sits up and pulls the blankets off of his legs. He shakes his head lightly and his blonde hair falls almost into his eyes. Italy stands up and walks across the cold mahogany floorboards barefoot. He shuts the bathroom door behind him and pulls his shirt over his head. His rock hard abs ripple as he stretches upwards, yawning. He removes his shorts blearily, then steps into the shower. He pulls the curtain shut behind him and turns on the water. The cold wave that hits him causes him to gasp, but the warmth that came afterwards massaged his shoulders comfortingly. Italy relaxes, letting the warm water caress his face and run down his toned muscles. He begins to rub shampoo into his scalp, eyes still closed. Italy starts at the sound of the door being swung open forcefully.

"Italy! Italy!" The voice that hails him sounds strangely familiar.

"You sound like me," he says. "But I sound like Germany..."

"That's because you are me!" comes the exasperated voice. "We somehow switched bodies... or minds..."

"Cool!" says Italy in Germany's voice. Stepping out of the spray of water, Italy looks down at himself for the first time that morning. "Whoa," he says. "I look... Amazing."

"Yes, I look good," says the real Germany. He whips the curtain open, revealing Italy standing in Germany's body.

"You look like me~!" Italy smiles hugely, revealing a set of pristine white teeth in immaculate rows. "I had no idea I was so cute!"


	2. Chapter 2

Germany suddenly crumples to the ground, his head hitting the sink on his way down.

"Oh dear," says Italy. After running around the house twice, he finally decides what to do. He picks up Germany's limp form and carries him to the bed. "He must have been scared...?"

Several hours later, Germany slowly blinks several times as if in a state of mild shock.

"Ve~, you're awake! I made pasta!" Italy's voice wakes him up the rest of the way. He focuses on the face in front of him and flinches.

"I didn't realize I looked so intimidating shirtless... I hope you at least remembered to put pants on...?" Germany looks at Italy's legs and sighs in relief. At least he had pants...

"I made pasta!" Italy seems to have ignored the comment. "Here."

Germany is propped up on a heap of soft down pillows. Shaking his head and blushing, he sits upright on his own. He takes the proffered bowl of pasta. He takes the fork from Italy and samples the pasta.

"This is..." he says, the pupils in his auburn eyes expanding nearly to cover his irises. "Amazing!"

"Ve~" The real Italy smiles. "Glad you like it!"

Germany smiles and relaxes back into the pillows before he realizes what he is doing. He closes his eyes and sighs. "Italy?"

"Ve?"

"Have I ever told you how much I love your cooking?"

Italy and Germany both blush. "No, but thank you very much," says Italy. He begins to fidget. "Germany?" He says hesitantly.

"Yes?" Germany pushes the pillow aside from his face to see Italy.

"Can I... Make lunch?"

Germany laughs heartily, the sound made duller by the vocals of Italy. "Of course!"


	3. Chapter 3

Italy stands in the sparkling clean kitchen and stirs the pot of pasta. He hums Hatafutte Parade, marveling at how deep Germany's voice is.

"Ve~" he says. "I sound amazing... I wish Romano could hear me. Maybe we can visit him later." He resumes humming, occasionally singing a verse out loud.

"Italy?" Germany sounds amused. "I sound good, would you mind singing louder?"

"Sure," he says. He begins singing a song that he didn't know he knew the lyrics to. Whenever he heard Prussia sing this song, he tried to hum along. This time, the words came unbidden.

"Someone is calling,

I'm being called

Alright, leave it to me; let's go

More! More!"

"That sounds like Mein Gott," says Germany.

"I think it is," says Italy. "I just started to sing and this is what happened. Maybe it's a German thing...?"

"Yeah," says Germany. "He used to sing that to me like a lullaby..."

"Cool! I never knew you were a kid."

Germany sighs, walking into the kitchen. He had never realized just how much taller he was than the Italian. Looking up into Italy's face, Germany was struck by his good looks and phenomenal muscle structure. Reaching out, he pats his pectorals.

"Like steel," he says. "Impressive."

"Ve~" says Italy. "You really are strong. I was able to pick you up easily. And you have very thick hair. I don't know why you don't wear it down." He smiles. "I'm almost done with this fettucini. When it's done, can you pour this sauce over it?" He gestures to a bowl of creamy white sauce. It smells heavenly. "Ah - done!" Italy strains the pasta and puts it into a bowl. Adding a pat of butter, he stirs it and gestures for Germany to add the sauce. Germany does so, and the smell of it makes his mouth water. It's cheesy, but not overly so. There's also an underlying spice scent.

"That smells amazing," he says. "What is it?"

"Fettucini Alfredo," Italy says. "Have some - I'm going to get cleaned up."

"Thank you," says Germany.

"Ve~ no problem! You should let me cook for you more often!" With that, Italy walks across the floor and out of the room.


End file.
